


Marked for Later

by hazelNuts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, M/M, Rated For Violence, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Weapons, background Allison/Scott, background cora/lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hale and the McCall pack have an uneasy truce. Now, when a witch has been killing people in both their territories, Derek and Stiles have to go undercover and actually work together to stop her.</p><p><i>‘We’ll go as a couple, of course. Then we either ask her if she wants a threesome, or I complain to her about my dick of a boyfriend. That role shouldn’t be too hard for you,’ Stiles grins, delighted at Derek’s horrified expression. ‘Now all we need are costumes.’</i><br/>‘No.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked for Later

**Author's Note:**

  * For [damnitgreenberg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnitgreenberg/gifts).



> If I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [betaderekhale](http://betaderekhale.tumblr.com/)

Stiles doesn’t like this. Hates it, actually. He doesn’t trust the Hales, and he’s sure that whoever they’ll send to work with him won’t trust him either. They don’t even trust Scott, and everyone trusts Scott. Even hunters trust him, although that might have more to do with the fact that Allison, Scott’s soulmate is the head of a powerful hunter family. Which might also be the reason the Hales don’t trust them. This is going to be an absolute disaster. Why would they suddenly be able to work together after five years of an uneasy treaty?

‘Can you at least try to look less angry?’ Scott sighs.

‘I don’t like this.’

‘I know, but we have no choice. The witch has been killing people in both territories and we need to work together on this. The Hales’ Emissary is too old to be able to blend in at a college party.’

‘I know,’ Stiles grumbles, taking a sip of his coffee. Alan “I’m a vet” Deaton would never be able to do this quietly, without standing out.

‘And be nice to whoever it is you’re working with, please,’ Scott begs.

‘Fine. I’ll play as nice as I possibly can.’

‘That’s all I’m asking,’ Scott grins, even though they both know that Stiles’ definition of “nice” is very broad.

The bell over the coffee shop door rings and holy werewolf gods, that is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen! Stiles trails his eyes over the man’s body, all thoughts of the Hales vanished. The man has amazing shoulders, and thighs that are clad in jeans that are just a little too tight. Perfection. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until he snaps out of it because Scott is dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

‘Stop it!’ Stiles says, batting Scott’s hands away. ‘I wasn’t-‘

‘Yeah, you were,’ Scott grins.

Stiles glares at him, and turns his gaze back to Perfect Specimen, only to stop breathing, because he’s coming their way! He walks with an easy confidence, and for such a big guy, he has a light and graceful pace, like a predator. Oh, motherf-

‘Alpha McCall? Emissary Stilinski?’ the werewolf growls. Stiles is pretty sure he’s not even trying to growl, it’s just his natural voice. He’s tempted to growl back at him.

‘Uhm, just Scott and Stiles will be fine,’ Scott says and invites the man to take a seat. ‘Would you like some coffee?’

‘Derek Hale,’ the man introduces himself.

‘Talia’s son?’ Stiles says, keeping his voice steady, but cursing silently. He’d hoped for some low-level Beta who he could make asshole comments to and lock in a broom closet while he took care of business, not Talia Hale’s eldest son.

‘That would be Alpha Hale to you,’ Derek corrects him, his growl getting even lower. ‘And I won’t be staying long enough for coffee.’

Again, Stiles pushes down the urge to growl back down. ‘Why would she send you?’

‘She thought I would be better at handling this with you than either of my sisters. Apparently there is some friction.’

‘If she meant that I’m still plotting my revenge on Cora because she put glitter in my body wash the night before graduation, then, yes.’ Cora had lived in the same building as him and Scott, their final year of college. It’s been a couple months now, but Stiles is still finding glitter in his clothes and his bed.

Derek smirks, and Stiles is about to tell him what he can do with that smirk when Scott interrupts them. ‘Stiles has a plan.’

‘Really?’ Derek says, brows rising skeptically.

‘Yes,’ Stiles bites out. ‘What? You thought I couldn’t handle that? I became an Emissary without any help, you fu-‘ He snaps his mouth shut at Scott’s pleading look, forces a smile on his face and starts over. ‘We go to the party and get her alone. It would be easiest if we got her outside, but a bedroom or bathroom will work just as well. Then, we take her out. I have bracelets that will knock her out.’

Derek’s brows rise even higher. ‘Bracelets?’

‘Yes. Iron with a lining of mountain ash. They’ll knock out anything supernatural, so you probably shouldn’t touch them either.’

‘And how are we supposed to get into that party? And get her to trust us enough that we’ll get her alone?’

‘We’ll go as a couple, of course. Then we either ask her if she wants a threesome, or I complain to her about my dick of a boyfriend. That role shouldn’t be too hard for you,’ Stiles grins, delighted at Derek’s horrified expression. ‘Now all we need are costumes.’

‘No.’

‘We’re going to a Halloween party, dude.’

‘No.’

‘Fine, you can go as an asshole werewolf. Won’t even need a costume.’ Stiles winces when Scott kicks him under the table and gives him another warning look. ‘Or we could go as Batman and Robin.’

Derek answers him with disapproving eyebrows.

‘Captain America and the Winter Soldier.’

More disapproving eyebrows.

‘I’ll be Frankenstein, you can be the monster.’

Pissed off eyebrows.

‘Salt and pepper?’

You-are-insane eyebrows.

‘You could help you know? Instead of judging my ideas with your eyebrows,’ Stiles snaps.

‘It’s not just my eyebrows that are judging you.’

‘How about we find something you both like?’ Scott interjects. Stiles leans back again, he hadn’t even realized he was leaning towards Derek. ‘Derek, any movies that you like? Star Wars, maybe?’

‘I’m not dressing up as Chewbacca,’ Derek glares at Stiles just as he opens his mouth.

‘I was actually going to suggest you be Leia, since I already have a Han costume,’ Stiles smirks, and he can’t help adding, ‘I bet you’d have cute buns.’

Derek chokes on his attempt at another growl, and Stiles is shocked to see the tips of his ears turning red.

‘Are y-‘

‘Star Trek!’ Scott interrupts him.

‘I’ll be Kirk and you can be Bones,’ Stiles says, wiggling his eyebrows, hoping to get another blush from Derek.

‘Okay.’

Stiles is momentarily stumped by Derek’s easy agreement and the lack of a reaction of them dressing up as the most famous fictional soulmates of the last fifty years.

‘Well, I already have my costume so-‘

‘So do I.’

Stiles is stumped again, but is gleeful about the return of the blushing ears.

‘All right. Pick me up at nine?’

Derek nods and shoves his chair back, standing up.

‘Thank you, Derek,’ Scott says, standing up as well. ‘And please send my regards to Alpha Hale.’

Derek nods again, and then walks out of the coffee shop. Scott sits back down, a multitude of emotions crossing over his face before settling on desperation at the mischief in Stiles’ eyes.

‘Stiles, pl-‘

‘Oh my god, did you see that? He blushes with his ears, Scott! With his ears!’

~

The doorbell rings at nine exactly. When Stiles opens up, Derek is already glowering at him and without so much as a how do you do he walks off again, not waiting to see if Stiles follows him. Asshole. Stiles grabs his jacket and supplies, and follows, pretending not to notice how the blue shirt stretches tightly over the man’s shoulders. When he sees the car they’ll be taking, he snorts. It can only be described as a suburban soccer mom car.

‘This is destroying all my “The Hales are evil” fantasies,’ he mumbles, making sure it’s just loud enough for Derek to hear.

Derek rolls his eyes and motions for Stiles to get in. They drive in silence. Stiles hates silences, but Scott gave him an hour long speech about being nice to Derek and not antagonizing Talia Hale’s son, so finding something to talk about isn’t easy.

‘So, it’s warm for October, don’t you think?’ is all he can come up with.

‘Smalltalk?’ Derek asks, a note of disgust in his voice.

‘Scott told me to be nice. Small talk is nice. And we have to at least seem friendly to each other if we’re gonna pass as a couple.’

Derek doesn’t say anything to that, just keeps staring at the road like he thinks something might jump in the middle of it at any moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. With those few words the tension in the car has gotten worse.

‘How about we go over the plan again?’ Stiles opts. ‘I added some details to it.’

Derek nods stiffly. Stiles idly wonders what the stick up his ass is made out of.

‘She probably won’t go down without a fight, so I have a mixture of mountain ash ashes and mistletoe ashes that should incapacitate her magic, and give as an advantage.’

‘Should?’

‘Well, the stronger her magic, the less likely it’ll work, or work enough.’

‘Great. Anything else that might possibly go horribly wrong?’

‘Yeah, she might have a werewolf detection amulet on her. Probably why nobody’s caught her yet. I’m gonna need to draw a cloaking rune on your back.’

‘With what?’ The look on Derek’s face is apprehensive.

‘Magic marker. What did you think I was going to use?’

Derek shifts a little uncomfortable.

‘Did you think I was gonna say virgin blood or dragon dung or something?’

‘You’ve met Deaton, right?’

‘Why-  You know what? I don’t want to know. If I’m going to throw up tonight, it’s going to be from either too much candy or too much alcohol, celebrating our success.’

Derek wrinkles his nose in disgust, but again refuses to continue the conversation. Stiles takes the opportunity to tell Derek about last year’s Halloween party, where he and Lydia had brewed a special batch of wolfsbane liquor and Scott had shifted into his Alpha form, only to chase his tail for three hours straight. It pulls a chuckle out of Derek and, encouraged, Stiles moves on to other topics such as his former college professors and the glory of Taco Tuesdays. The atmosphere in the car could almost be called comfortable by the time they reach the house.

Stiles clips the iron and mountain ash bracelets on his belt, and stuffs as much of the mixture of ashes in the pouches also hanging on there. It’s going to be a disaster to clean, but now isn’t the time to mourn his Kirk costume.

‘Shirt off, big guy. I need to rune you up.’

Derek nods, and starts pulling off his shirt while Stiles rummages in his bag for his marker. It’s not actually magic, just a black marker Stiles knows will keep for the next couple of hours, even if Derek were to start sweating. When he looks up again at Derek’s exposed back, his hands and jaw go slack. The marker slips out of hand.

Holy Shit.

‘Oh my g-‘ he manages to get out, before promptly losing his words.

It’s not just that Derek’s back is a ripple of beautifully sculpted muscle. It’s not even the triskelion tattoo that emphasizes those muscles in a way Stiles should not be thinking about when in a confined space with a creature with super senses. It is the set of numbers scrawled in Stiles’ handwriting, right underneath that tattoo. It’s a soulmate mark.

Derek’s soulmate mark is Stiles’ birthdate.

And it’s written in Stiles’ handwriting.

Derek must have noticed his emotions and heart going haywire, because he turns to frown at Stiles.

‘Something wrong? Is it the tattoo?’

Stiles shakes his head, making a whining noise at the back of his throat and pointing at the soulmate mark.

‘You don’t happen to be a Christmas baby, do you?’ he manages to ask after a couple tries.

‘Yeah, how-‘ Derek’s eyes widen.

‘Nice handwriting, dude,’ Stiles laughs weakly, pulling down the collar of his shirt to reveal his own mark.

Derek doesn’t say anything and his eyebrows are doing a lot of complicated things at such a high speed that Stiles can’t decipher it. But Derek doesn’t seem mad at least, he seems... relieved? Resigned? Neither of those makes a lot of sense.

Stiles isn’t sure what to feel. He’s a little proud of having such a hot soulmate, but he’s also terrified of the consequences. What if this sparks an all-out war between their packs? What if this means that Stiles can’t actually be with his soulmate? Will he have to find someone else? Not a lot of people are okay with being with anyone other than their soulmate. And all of that is not even taking into account that he and Derek don’t really like each other.

‘You should draw that rune so we can go inside,’ Derek finally says, voice strangled, turning his back to him again.

‘Right. Of course.’

He takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly, hoping it will calm him, but his hand still shakes a little when he draws the rune on Derek’s shoulder. On impulse he quickly adds another one for protection below it. At the very least it will stop Derek from dying or getting cursed.

‘All done,’ he says, pulling his hands off Derek and nearly falling out the car in his hurry to get out of the confined space.

Derek waits for him to pick himself off the ground and they start walking towards the house without another word. Half-way there, Stiles grabs Derek’s hand.

‘Couple, remember?’ Stiles explains at Derek’s confused look. He quickly looks forward again and pretends not to notice how comfortably their hands fit together.

The party is crowded, there are bright flashing lights, loud music, and a strong smell of weed. Derek flinches from the assault on his senses and tries to back out of the house. Stiles uses their clasped hands to drag Derek to the “dancefloor” in the middle of the living room and pulls him close. He pushes Derek’s head in his neck, hoping it will block out the worst of the smells.

‘What can I do?’ he shouts over the music. He needs Derek’s werewolf sight to easily identify the witch, and that can’t happen if Derek’s so distracted.

‘Just give me a minute,’ Derek shouts back.

Stiles tries his best to make it look they’re really dancing, but the knowledge that Derek is his soulmate makes everything feel more real. Derek is taking deep breaths, inhaling Stiles’ scent like he’s his anchor. Oh shit. He probably is now, Stiles realizes. Scott had told him that his anchor changed the moment he found Allison. He quickly pushes the panic down. Ten minutes ago this was a simple operation, now it feels like minefield where if he takes one wrong step, things will blow up into a war.

‘I’m good now,’ Derek says, suddenly jerking back like he’s been burned. Stiles can read on Derek’s face that he senses the minefield, too.

‘Great. So, how do we find the witch?’ Maybe if they ignore the minefield, they’ll actually be able to pull this thing off. Stiles is a big fan of ignoring things. Because if you ignore them long enough they usually just go away.

‘We walk around,’ Derek says, grabbing Stiles’ hand again. His eyes flash yellow when he starts pulling Stiles around the room.

Realizing they look a little weird, looking around, not talking, not drinking, Stiles starts leading Derek to the drinks. Maybe he should just have a beer, the alcohol could hardly make him more distracted. They’re almost there, and Stiles is dreaming up a nice little cocktail when Derek suddenly stops and pulls him around a corner, the alcohol stocked table vanishing from sight.

‘You saw her?’

Derek nods. ‘Think stereotypical witch, including the pointy hat, by the drinks.’

Stiles peers around the corner. There is a woman about his age, with long black hair, a black dress, and black pointy hat. She really doesn’t look that threatening.

‘Her? Really? You sure?’ One look at Derek’s raised eyebrows tells Stiles that, ‘Of course you are.’

‘There’s one empty bedroom. I’ll lead her there. Follow us and keep that powder ready.’

‘How were you planning on getting her up there?’

‘Flirt.’

‘You can flirt?’

Derek’s face breaks out in a smile that gives him crinkles his eyes and shows of an adorable set of bunny teeth. Stiles’ heart skips a beat, and he feels a stab of jealousy when he thinks of the witch being on the receiving end of his soulmate’s flirting.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he admits, quickly looking away.

Derek gives him a questioning look then walks to the witch. While he talks to her, Derek’s stance is relaxed, hands in his pocket, all his attention focussed on the woman.

It makes something possessive curl in Stiles’ stomach. This is ridiculous, he didn’t even know Derek was his soulmate until fifteen minutes ago and he’s already becoming the jealous boyfriend. But the witch ignores Derek, and that inexplicably pisses Stiles off even more.

Derek trudges over to him, a slightly confused look on his face and Stiles quickly schools his face into an expression of amusement.

‘Not used to being turned down?’

‘Shut up,’ Derek growls. ‘What now?’

‘My turn.’

‘You can flirt?’ Derek echoes Stiles’ question from earlier.

‘Yes, I’m great at flirting. A master.’ Stiles pokes Derek in the chest to emphasize his point. Hmm, sturdy. ‘But I don’t need to flirt. I just watched my boyfriend flirt with another. I’m gonna make her pity me.’

Derek looks at him like he’s never heard anything more idiotic, but Stiles ignores it and makes his way over to his target. This is going to work. He can feel it.

‘I hate men,’ Stiles mutters when he reaches the drinks table. ‘Don’t you hate them?’

‘I don’t particularly care for them,’ the witch says, raising her eyebrows. Stiles feels a shiver run down his spine. From a distance she hadn’t looked that dangerous, but from up close he can almost feel the maliciousness rolling off her.

‘You want to know why they suck?’ The woman sighs, but Stiles ignores it and continues, ‘You’ve been dating for a while, and then you go to a Halloween party just to watch him flirt with another.’

‘Tall, dark and handsome that was just here?’

‘You forgot cheating asshole,’ Stiles mutters darkly. He starts scanning the table and grabs the bottles with the strongest contents. He searches for a cup, then starts mixing them all together.

‘That looks like a bad idea,’ the woman says, disgust in her voice.

‘It’s going to get me insanely wasted, so it’s a great idea.’

The witch takes the cup of death away from him. She looks angry, and Stiles realizes that maybe his and Derek’s presence is interrupting one of her wicked schemes. She stares at him for a moment, and Stiles is about to turn tail and make a run for it, but then a friendly smile curves her lips.

‘Okay, you know what?’ she says. ‘Maybe you should go home. Or even better, go to a friend.’

Stiles slumps his shoulders, like the fire’s suddenly gone out of him. He nods, rubbing a hand over his face.

‘You’re right. He’s not worth getting alcohol poisoning over. Hey, uhm, you maybe want to wait outside with me? There’s someone I can call but I’d have to wait for him. I can’t say I’m sure I won’t slash my now very ex-boyfriend’s tires if left alone.’

‘He’d deserve it,’ the witch says, placing a hand on his arm and Stiles has to use all his willpower not to recoil from her touch.

The witch tightens her grip on him and leads him outside. The porch is full of people, so they go to the side of the house where it’s quieter. Stiles can’t believe she actually led him to the perfect spot to take her in. His hand has one of the bracelets almost unclasped from his belt, when the witch spins and kicks him in the stomach. He gasps for air and stumbles back, only just managing to stay upright.

Stiles looks up just in time to see her slip her athame from the belt around her waist. This is bad. Athames are only used in ceremonies, which means that: one, they definitely stopped her from doing something tonight and she’s probably pissed as hell about it, and two, it’ll be infused with dark magic and even the smallest cut is going to hurt like hell. He’s starting to wish he’d taken Allison’s advice and borrowed her daggers for the night.

The witch lunges, but suddenly Derek is there, pulling the witch back. He tries to get her to drop the knife, but it’s not easy when he needs to avoid touching it at all cost. Derek slashes and snaps while the witch mutters curse after curse at him, but they all bounce off. She manages to grab the back of his shirt, though. A loud rip fills the air and Derek back is exposed, including the protection rune. The witch smirks and mumbles out a short phrase. The hex hits Derek in the chest, and Stiles realizes the flaw in his rune. It protects Derek from any physical, magical harm, but it doesn’t protect him from all the other magical crap that can be thrown at him.

Derek moves slower with every passing second, like he’s trying to move through mud, or bubble-gum. Soon he won’t be fast enough to stop the witch from stabbing him.

‘Fuck,’ Stiles mutters.

He reaches into the pouch with the ashes. He knows he’ll hit Derek too, doesn’t know what it’ll do to the werewolf, but it’s better than doing nothing and wait for him to get stabbed with an evil knife. So Stiles aims and throws. The ashes explode in the witch’s face, raining down to cover the rest of her body. She screams when she realizes what has happened, that her magic has been neutralized, and tries to rub the ashes off.

Derek gets hit too, but it doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on him. He stumbles back and sneezes, but that’s it.

Stiles moves between Derek and the witch, bracelets in his hands. They look like manacles, except there’s no chain between them. The witch is too distracted by the ashes and the loss of her magic to really notice him. He punches her in the solar plexus and the witch gasps, stumbles back, but sadly doesn’t go down. The majority of witches rely heavily on their magic to defend them, but of course Stiles wouldn’t be lucky enough to encounter one of those. Trying to get the bracelet on her feels like one of his sparring sessions with Allison. Except, this woman is not as good as his friend, and he gets inside her defences again, this time grabbing her wrist and slapping one of the bracelets on.

The witch screams again in fury. ‘You’ll pay for this, arrogant druid!’

Stiles smiles as he watches her breathing getting more laboured from the effort to keep standing. It doesn’t take long for her to give up the fight, and crumple to the ground. The snarl coming out of her when her knees hit the pavement is more animal than human.

Before putting the insurance bracelet on her, Stiles throws a glance over his shoulder to check on Derek, who is staring at Stiles both proud and impressed.

‘Stiles!’ Derek shouts, his eyes widening in fear.

The warning comes too late. Stiles feels his stomach burning and when he looks down his shirt is slashed open, blood staining the yellow shirt. The cut on his stomach isn’t deep, but it’s enough.

The witch is lying on the ground laughing, athame next to her where it slipped out of her hand, one edge dark with blood.

‘It doesn’t matter now. The dark magic is already flowing through him fighting with his spark, turning it into a flame.’ She grins, her eyes shining. ‘He will burn up from the inside out. I told you you’d pay.’

Stiles stumbles and feels himself falling, but doesn’t hit the ground. Derek catches him and props him up against the side of the house. He kneels down next to him, hands hovering over Stiles’ wound.

‘What do I do?’ His eyes are wide and panicked.

‘Put the other bracelet on her, carefully. Call Argent. Call Deaton,’ Stiles grits out.

‘I meant for you,’ Derek huffs.

‘Oh.’ Stiles tries to think through the pain. ‘There’s more of that powder in my pocket. It might slow it down.’

‘Might?’

If Stiles didn’t feel like he was dying, he would’ve teased Derek about how his panic makes him sound like an eight year old choir boy. ‘Yeah. And maybe knock me out? I don’t want to scream and draw attention to us.’

‘Kno- You can’t be serious.’

‘Deadly,’ he manages to grin.

Derek nods and draws his fist back. He hesitates for a moment, then places quick kiss at the spot his fist will connect with Stiles’ head.

Stiles is going to make so much fun of him for that if he survives.

~

There is growling and snarling, and that definitely sounds like something breaking. Did they not get the witch? Did she escape somehow? Manage to get off that first bracelet?

He tries to open his eyes, which takes a lot longer than he expects. When they’re finally open and the world stops spinning, he groans. He’s in his own bed, in the McCall pack house, which is good. Scott and Derek are both there, which would be great if Derek and Scott weren’t fighting. Scott has Derek pushed against the wall, eyes blazing red and snapping at Derek’s throat. Derek appears to be struggling between submitting to the Alpha and trying to stay alive.

‘Hey, Scott?’ Stiles croaks. Derek and Scott both snap their gazes toward him, eyes glowing and fangs on full display. ‘Could you hold off on killing my soulmate at least until after the first date?’

Scott’s eyes widen in surprise, the red in them fades and his fangs retract. ‘Soulmate?’

Stiles manages a weak smile and then Scott pulls Derek away from the wall, into a hug. If Stiles wasn’t still in so much pain, he would’ve laughed at Derek’s stunned expression.

Scott lets go of Derek and, turning to Stiles, says, ‘I’ll go tell Cora and Lydia that you’re awake.’ There’s the sound of something, or someone, crashing into a wall downstairs and all three of them wince. ‘Before they break the house down. Hey, can I tell them you’re soulmates?’

Stiles nods and then urges him out of the room. Derek stays where he is, standing stiffly and not looking unsure. Stiles pats the mattress beside him and Derek’s shoulders drop. He’s next to Stiles in a flash, lying down so they’re face to face.

‘So, what happened?’ Stiles asks, pretending the awkwardness between them doesn’t exist.

‘I did what you said. After Argent took the witch away, Deaton looked at your wound. You were right about the ashes, by the way.’

‘Anything else?’

‘After Deaton stabilized you enough so you could be moved, he and Argent took care of the witch. Apparently she was part of a coven and had gone rogue. They weren’t very happy with her.’

‘So it’s over?’

‘Yeah. Deaton put some stuff on your wound. You need to change it twice a day. He left the recipe and the more rare ingredients in your kitchen.’

‘Awesome.’ Stiles fidgets with the blankets, looking for something to say or do. ‘Hey, could you help me sit up? I’m kind of thirsty.’

‘Of course.’

Derek quickly and efficiently helps Stiles sit up, but it still hurts like hell. Stiles tries to catch his breath while Derek goes to grab some water from the bathroom. When he comes back, he watches Stiles drink with a frown on his face.

‘What?’ Stiles asks.

‘Are you really still in so much pain?’

‘I’ve had worse,’ he shrugs.

‘Can I-‘ Derek starts uncertainly, sitting down next to Stiles again. He holds out his hand for Stiles to take. Stiles blinks at it, but then he eagerly grabs Derek’s hand and sighs. Derek’s hand is warm and big around his. It’s more comforting than the pain being pulled out of him.

‘You know,’ Derek starts. ‘I was going to ask you out that first day. I saw you sitting there and you looked so good. So I figured that after I the meeting with McCall and his Emissary I would head over to you. And then you turned out to be the Emissary.’

‘Must’ve been a real bummer,’ Stiles chuckles.

‘Yeah, it was. I had no idea how I was going to stop myself from flirting with you.’

‘You’ll never guess!’ Scott interrupts them, smile wide and eyes twinkling in amusement, before Stiles can respond to Derek’s confession. ‘Cora and Lydia are soulmates, too! This is amazing!’

Stiles is too stunned for words and when he looks at Derek he sees that he is just as surprised.

‘Cora tore Lydia’s shirt-‘

‘And she’s still alive?’ Stiles croaks out. Lydia threatened to tear his head off once because he almost spilled food on her clothes.

‘Yeah, because she saw the tattoo on Lydia’s shoulder and then pulled up her own shirt to show hers. It’s great isn’t it?’

Scott’s excitement fades suddenly, his eyes widening and his cheeks going red. Next to him Derek cringes.

‘Gotta go,’ Scott says and disappears.

Derek cringes again, and Stiles raises his eyebrows in question.

‘Cora and Lydia, they’re-‘ He can’t finish the sentence but doesn’t really need to. ‘Oh god, I don’t want to hear my sister do that.’

‘Maybe close the door?’ Stiles suggest. Derek is already up and slamming the door shut. He looks almost as panicked as when Stiles had gotten hurt. ‘Bring the laptop on your way back. We’ll watch a movie.’

‘Can that movie erase what’s in my brain?’ Derek asks desperately.

‘Star Trek is good, but not magical.’

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: In modern witchcraft/Wicca/Paganism athames are NOT weapons. They're not even cutting tools, they're magic tools (for channeling and directing energy). When a witch/wiccan/pagan needs to cut herbs, etc. for their spells/rituals they (usually) use something else.  
> This witch was evil, which is why I had her use her athame the way she did.


End file.
